by Sam Hayes
Mary’s small face was mostly obscured by a pair of large black sunglasses, also outdated in style, and a frame of mousy, shoulder-length hair of no particular cut. She had obviously tried to dress up for the occasion but the overall effect was that of a woman who had little money, little self-esteem and no confidence. From first impressions, Robert was surprised that she’d even made it to the offices of Mason & Knight. Mary Bowman resembled a woman clinging to life with the tip of one finger.
Robert took the woman’s hand as she offered it, noticing the lack of rings, the lack of warmth, the slight tremor. He sent Tanya out of the room, sensing she would have gladly stayed. ‘Please, sit.’
Mary Bowman solemnly positioned herself in the leather client’s chair and only when Robert pulled out his chair from behind the desk and located himself right in front of her did she slowly lift her head and remove her sunglasses. Her movements were laboured as if her limbs were filled with wet concrete and her gaze was distant, her expression hollow. Her entire face conveyed to Robert everything he needed to know about Bowman versus Bowman. Mary’s nose was comprehensively broken – a swollen and split welt saddling the bridge – and her eyes were like two rotting plums set into tender flesh, badly concealed beneath the wrong-coloured foundation.
Robert breathed in, partly to stifle the exclamation he felt he was about to make and partly because he couldn’t help it. He’d practised family law since qualifying, represented some desperate cases in his time, but seeing Mary Bowman present herself to him as if she were a piece of evidence threw up serious personal doubts about representing Jed Bowman. And he knew it wasn’t just because Mason & Knight took legal aid cases either. Robert had untangled similarly nauseating cases where his clients drove eighty thousand pound cars and still pulped their wives. The strange thing was, it had never bothered him before.
‘How can I help?’ Robert realised how stupid he sounded. How could anyone help this woman?
‘I’ve come to tell you that I give up.’ Mary Bowman folded her hands neatly in her lap, as if to punctuate her statement. She picked at a nail. ‘I don’t want my children. I am an unfit mother.’ She gestured to her face, her hand accidentally bumping her lips and smudging a streak of pale pink lipstick across her already patterned cheek.
Robert was stunned. This was not what he had expected. True, it would make his life considerably easier and get the file off his desk, but he knew, after having seen Mary Bowman and her wrecked face, that that would be like sending Ruby back to her old school.
‘That’s something the court will decide,’ he said. ‘Your solicitor will present your case in the best possible way and the children’s welfare officer will do the same. The judge will determine, after all the facts have been weighed up, what’s best for your children. As your husband’s representative, I have a duty to . . .’ Robert hesitated. His obligation to Jed Bowman suddenly blurred as he was confronted by the plainest evidence of the case so far.
Faced with his client’s wife, the respondent, in his own personal space, his twelve-foot-square office for which he had chosen the slate-grey carpet, the mahogany desk, the watercolours hanging on the oak-panelled walls, immediately flooded the case with a third dimension. A human aspect that he didn’t think he’d now be able to ignore. Robert breathed in deeply, continuing, ‘. . . a duty to present your husband’s case to the court. And because there is evidence of the children’s neglect and your actions, adultery included—’
‘Now you have proof of Jed’s actions.’ Mary pulled back her hair and tilted her face to the window. The damage was comprehensive. ‘I give up because Jed has made it impossible for me to continue. Even if I do get the kids back, he’ll never leave me alone. Not any of your stupid orders will keep him away from me. Not now I’ve been with his brother. That got to him more than anything.’ She turned back to Robert. ‘That really messed with his brain.’ She took a packet of Royals from her purse and lit one without asking Robert if he minded. ‘My husband will always own me, whatever the judge decides. I hope you sleep well at night.’
‘Now wait up a minute.’ Battered wife or not, Robert refused to have his professionalism questioned, however hard the truth stuck in his heart. ‘Whatever history you and Jed have together is your business. If Jed chooses to knock you about every day for the rest of your life, that isn’t my concern.’ Robert felt his mouth turn sour. Old coffee, the cigarette smoke, guilt – whatever it was, swallowing didn’t make it go away. ‘What makes this my business is that your husband has instructed me to file for divorce on his behalf and the residency of your children is in dispute. Two helpless kids who, if given the choice, would rather not have their dad knock their mum about or learn that their mum’s been at it with their uncle. That’s not to mention the drugs and the alcohol and the kids rarely attending school . . .’ Robert stopped himself. He wasn’t in court now. Mary was damaged enough.
Mary snorted and blew out a plume of smoke. ‘Is that what he told you? That I’m an alcoholic and do drugs?’
Robert walked to the window and hoisted the sash open. The room suddenly filled with city street noise and the smell of car exhaust fumes riding on the warm updraught of humid air. He stared down at the steady stream of shoppers, women with prams, office workers, cars, taxis – all allowed to go about their own business without being intimidated or bullied. Ruby and Jenna, each hounded in their own way, flashed through his head until the guilt that welled in his gullet forced him to turn back to Mary.
Robert marched across the office and pulled his chair even closer to Mary’s. He sat, hitching up his tailored suit trousers, and took her hands in his. Sirens screamed in his head. He heard Den’s raised voice when he found out how stupid his partner had been. He saw himself packing up his belongings, vacating his office – the prestigious office suite that he and Den had sweated blood to be able to afford. Then he saw Ruby, miserable in her old school, relentlessly bullied by the young Jed Bowmans of the world. She had been a victim, like Mary, until he had taken control and sent her to a new school. Then there was Jenna, plagued by his own insecurities until something gave and the truth came out. That his suspicions had been correct was of no importance any more. Jenna had been sentenced to death before she had even been tried and it was entirely his fault. He had wrongly assumed the role of uninformed judge. Robert shook his head to rid himself of thoughts that had no place in his consciousness at a time like this.
‘Tell me everything, Mary. From the beginning.’
Mary bowed her head. Before she began, she asked for a glass of water.
ELEVEN
Robert left the office early. His ability to concentrate on work had diminished since Mary Bowman had left several hours ago. Her presence in his office had stirred up silt at the bottom of his personal river that he was trying to forget.
Squinting as he drove out of the underground car park, Robert fished in the glove compartment for his sunglasses before pulling out through the traffic onto the opposite side of the road. The muggy afternoon air did nothing to warm his spirits, rather caused a patina of sweat to form on his face and forearms that were still cool from the air-conditioned office. As he sat in standstill traffic he flicked through several radio stations but none of the music suited his mood. He pressed the automatic roof switch and brought down the top on his Mercedes. He wanted to shut out the entire world.
‘Home,’ he snapped at his handset. The number rang out. Erin had forgotten to set the answer machine. But it confirmed that the house was empty and encouraged Robert to press on with what he had specifically left the office early for – aside from wanting to avoid Den for fear his wily partner would sniff out that the enemy had been visiting.
Robert couldn’t deny the misgivings he had about Ruby’s birth certificate. The feelings of doubt, the ones he fought hard to keep submerged, might have sunk to the bottom of the river again, given time. But, coupled with the disturbing visit from Mary and Erin’s reluctance to even consider a passport for Ruby, Robert wa
s challenging those bubbling emotions, poking a stick at them to see how they reacted. He certainly couldn’t ignore that Erin had been against Ruby’s school trip since she’d first heard about it. Did that mean she was worried for Ruby’s safety, that she thought thirteen too young an age to travel abroad without a parent? Was she burdening her with her fear of flying? Or was it more technical than that?
Perhaps Erin was afraid of the unhappy memories she would stir if she had to apply for Ruby’s birth certificate in her ex-partner’s name. It could be that Ruby never knew her father – she never mentioned him, after all – and didn’t even realise that her official surname wasn’t actually Lucas. The possible explanations for Erin’s behaviour were numerous although one thing was certain. Robert needed to know the truth, partly because the truth usually evaded him when it came to relationships but mostly because he didn’t want to ruin another marriage through paranoia. Finding out clean facts now would prevent the bubbling pot of suspicion boiling over. How to get the truth, gently, without disturbing the waters, was another matter entirely.
At ten past three, Robert pulled up outside their home. The four-storey townhouse looked slightly grey and shabby in the sunlight, with black paint peeling off the window frames in places and the once-cream stonework faded and stained by the overflow from old, leaky guttering.
Robert checked his watch again as he locked the Mercedes. Ruby would arrive home in about half an hour, cheerily dumping her school bag in the doorway before raiding the refrigerator and retreating to her room to concentrate on homework or shutting herself away to play the piano. Now that she had settled in to Greywood College, they had enrolled her in the school’s minibus service, which dropped off a number of pupils in their area. He didn’t expect Erin back from the shop before six. Either way, he would have to be careful.
‘Ruby? Erin?’ he called out just to make sure, pulling the front door key from the lock and leaning his briefcase against the wall. The heady aroma of the freesias on the marble-topped hall table made him pause for a moment. He remembered Erin lovingly arranging them that morning. She was passionate about flowers, especially simple country blooms in whites and creams. Her popular shop was a credit to her and had become everything he expected she would make of it. Erin was a hard worker, determined in everything she did. He was surprised, when he’d asked not long after they met, that she hadn’t gone to university or trained in one of the professions. If they had a disagreement, he always teased her that she would have made an indomitable lawyer.
Despite the unusual hour, Robert opened the drinks cabinet in the dining room and poured himself a generous single malt. The extra guilt from drinking alone in the afternoon was far outweighed by the unwelcome sense of betrayal that sat heavily in his throat and chest, making him overly aware of every thump of his heart beneath his ribs.
‘For heaven’s sake, man,’ he said to himself. ‘It’s only a drink. And it’s not like she’s having a bloody affair.’ Robert knocked back the whisky and poured another before venturing upstairs.
He hesitated and stared at the tumbler, turning it slowly in his hands. The cut crystal set had been a wedding present from Jenna’s parents and, to match the memory, as he passed the bay window he thought he caught sight of Jenna, her face a disapproving wash of watercolours. He stopped to take a closer look but there was nothing there, just the brilliant fan of rays spilling into the room. He shrugged, cursed his mind for playing tricks, and went directly upstairs. He didn’t have time for ghosts from the past, whatever they were trying to tell him.
He began with Erin’s computer, wiggling the mouse impatiently as he waited for it to boot up. The top floor of the house had been part of the recent redecoration plan and the two attic rooms had been made into studies. One was for Erin so she didn’t have to stay at the shop to attend to all the business paperwork, and the other was for Robert, who often brought files home to work on after hours.
‘Finally,’ Robert sighed, glancing at his watch. Immediately, he dived right into the computer’s hard drive, checking to see what files and software Erin possessed. He browsed through meticulously organised folders and accounting records, unsure exactly what he was searching for, although he was convinced he would know it when he saw it.
He opened Outlook Express and organised all her emails into order, so he could tell if she had been communicating with one particular person more than another. Every time a man’s name appeared on the list, Robert scanned the messages. Mostly, he read about wholesale flower orders or complaints about why a delivery hadn’t arrived on time. There were messages to and from Erin’s shop landlord about a rent increase and mother-daughter giggles between Erin and Ruby. One message thread in particular, initiated by Ruby, spoke so highly of Robert and what a loving father he was, it nearly exploded the guilt lodged in his craw. But this had to be done, for Ruby. For his marriage.
Erin’s emails proved to be particularly uninteresting. But they made Robert realise just how hard his wife worked to run the flower shop single-handed. It was a massive undertaking for one woman although he could see she managed the business efficiently, just as he expected. But admiration did nothing to stop Robert. He dug further into the computer, trawling obsessively through every file, whether it was a system file, a program file, a document created by Erin or her internet surfing history. He sipped on his whisky and loosened his tie. It was hot at the top of the house so he took a moment to open the skylight.
He froze. Someone was coming upstairs. Robert glanced at his watch. In panic, he pulled the computer plugs from their socket and Erin’s computer immediately sighed and the screen went blank. Ruby came into the room.
‘Oh.’ She stood in the doorway. ‘I thought you were Mum. I heard someone up here.’ She frowned, shocked to see Robert in her mother’s study. Her reaction was a diluted version of how Erin would have behaved.
‘Just me, I’m afraid.’ Robert exhaled and smelled the sweet whisky on his breath. Explaining away his presence to Ruby would be easy, perhaps even useful.
‘What are you doing?’ Ruby’s tone was still confrontational, Robert thought, as if Erin was speaking through her daughter. He didn’t want her telling her mother about this.
‘I’m looking for your birth certificate.’ Quick thinking was Robert’s job. ‘I need it to be able to get you a passport. You want to go on the school trip to Vienna, don’t you?’
‘Do I ever!’ Ruby’s expression relaxed, budding with innocence again.
‘Have you ever had a passport, Ruby?’ Robert stood and walked over to his stepdaughter to give her a gentle hug.
‘I dunno.’ She shrugged. ‘I’ve never been on an aeroplane.’
‘You’re home early.’ Robert tried not to show his frustration at being interrupted.
‘The tennis tournament was cancelled. The other school couldn’t make it so we were allowed to come home early to study for the end of term exams. The minibus dropped me off.’ She shifted from one foot to the other.
Robert realised that she thought she was in for a ticking-off for perhaps taking public transport or even walking. Instinctively, he knew she would be more amenable to helping him if he let it pass. ‘Do you know where your birth certificate is, Ruby?’
‘I’ve never seen it but I know Mum keeps stuff like that hidden in here.’ Ruby surprised Robert by approaching Erin’s desk, which looked like a French antique writing desk but was in fact designed to take a computer as well. Ruby completely removed the centre drawer and knelt down, reaching right to the back of the space. She fumbled about for a moment and then proudly removed a battered black tin cash box and placed it on the circular rug that partly obscured the painted floorboards. Ruby then retrieved a small key from underneath the rug and unlocked the tin. ‘You won’t tell Mum, will you?’ She glanced up, her forehead wrinkling, before lifting the lid and frowning. ‘I saw her take the box out once and put something away in it. She didn’t know I was watching and might be cross if she thought I was spying.’ Rob
ert noticed a little nerve spasm beneath her left eye. ‘But I’ve never looked. I’d never pry.’
Robert crouched down beside his stepdaughter. His gaze was fixed on the tin as if she had just unearthed a pharaoh’s tomb. He patted her back. ‘Don’t worry, Ruby. It’ll be our secret, eh?’
‘See? I was right. There are all sorts of papers in here and look, Mum’s got a passport, so I should be allowed to have one.’ Ruby pouted briefly and then waved the passport above her head. Her mother was being so unfair not allowing her to go on the school trip.
‘Well, this is a start.’ Trying not to sound too eager, Robert took hold of the passport and opened it to the photograph page. He noticed that it had not long expired.
Quickly flipping through the pages, Robert saw that it had hardly been used. Only a couple of faded stamps proved a long-forgotten journey to Spain and Greece. Most likely holidays, he thought, turning back to the picture of Erin as a younger woman. He studied it for a moment, his heart pulling a lopsided smile across his otherwise anxious expression. She had been a rather mousy young thing in what he guessed to be her early or mid-twenties with a sullen look about her, as if having to pose for a picture was a terrible inconvenience.
The Erin he knew had never worn her hair long or with a fringe and she regularly went to the salon to maintain its cropped layered style and ash-blonde tint. The plump cheeks and heavy make-up were obviously a trait of his wife’s past too, as nowadays she was about a stone or so lighter than this picture suggested and her face was usually free from cosmetics.
Then, with a conviction to remain reasonable, Robert thought of his own passport photograph and how dissimilar that was to his current appearance. He laughed and snapped the passport shut and placed it back inside the tin. It was of no use. ‘What else have we got in here?’ He tried to appear casual about flicking through the contents but apart from worrying that Ruby would be loyal to her mother and disclose his search, he was also concerned that Erin herself would return and catch him in the act. When he didn’t come across Ruby’s birth certificate amongst the papers and letters, Robert decided that it would be best to conduct investigations another time, when he had the house to himself.
